


Don't Worry 'Bout Me

by NerdGirlsSquared



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: BAMF Peggy Carter, F/F, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdGirlsSquared/pseuds/NerdGirlsSquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela Martinelli is a brave, if not foolish, American woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Worry 'Bout Me

Angie Martinelli's feet hurt like hell. She was coming to the end of an exhausting double shift, with only sixty cents clinking in her pocket as consolation. It had been a long day, with several large families and their rambunctious children wreaking havoc. Angie was practically dragging herself across the restaurant floor. She had just returned from the order counter to find a booth filled with a new party. 

The occupants included Peggy Carter and two men in suits. English always came to the L&L alone, and Angie guessed by the stiff way she was sitting, these guys weren't necessarily welcome company. She recognized the faces from the time the Feds came to search the Griffith when Peggy got caught up in that trouble about a month ago.

"Peggy, nice to see ya. Gentlemen, whatta havin' today?" 

The man with a leg brace answered first. "A black coffee and a reuben, miss." 

The blond man beside him smirked, "Too bad you're not on the menu darlin'." 

Peggy shot the man a glare, pointedly remarking, "Ah, Thompson, I didn't realize Nanette was interested in an open relationship." 

He shrugged noncommittally and Angie had to smile. It wasn't the first time she'd heard that line, but it was the first time someone tried to defend her. Classic English. 

"Anyways," Angie continued, "Seeing as I'm not available, what _food_ will you be having mister?"

"Hamburger, no cheese. And a Coke. Thanks." 

Angie caught Peggy's eye, "And you, the usual?"

"Of course. Thank you dear." Peggy handed back her menu, their hands touching for the briefest of seconds. It raised the hair on Angie's arms and she tried her best not to flush. Even in a diner surrounded by men, Peggy was the only person worth looking at in the whole damn place. It was very inconvenient that Angie was harboring a serious infatuation with her new roommate, but it could certainly be worse.

Angie walked back to the counter and ripped off the meal ticket. She heard the customary grunt of acknowledgement from the line cook before she returned to the other tables. Later, when she brought Peggy's table their food, she caught a bit of their conversation. 

"He's a nice guy, but I don't think he's right for the job." Thompson was saying.

"I completely agree. That's why I suggest we consider Harriet. She's a veteran, like ourselves, and her _resource_ gathering in Paris was legendary. Anyone who managed to operate in that city during the occupation, and live, has got to be good." Peggy held her cup of tea, eyes locked with the blond man across the booth. 

Thompson sighed. "Fine. Fine. We'll look at your girl, Carter. But I still think we need other candidates."

Their conversation stopped abruptly when Angie approached the table. She laughed inwardly, realizing that these men must not have known she was Peggy's roommate and confidant. English was a private woman, so it didn't surprise her that she neglected to share personal details with her colleagues. Peggy didn't go into specifics about her job with Angie. The waitress knew she was a government agent of some sort, but the rest was "classified." 

"Eat up guys an' gals. Can't let that telephone business getcha down." Angie caught Peggy's eye and the brunette giving a slight nod. As long as the boys thought Angie was none the wiser, the better.

When the table finally cleared out, she counted up the change left on their bill. Much to her surprise, they had left over fifty cents in tip money. Considering Angie made forty cents an hour, it nearly boggled her mind. "Jesus English," she breathed. Peggy must have over tipped, knowing the two boys wouldn't be shown up by woman. What a gal. Who wouldn't be smitten with such a beautiful and kind person?

*****

By the time she left the Automat, her feet were so sore she hobbled down the street. When she finally got on her bus to go uptown to Howard's apartment, she literally collapsed into her seat.

"Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus, I need new feet." She lifted her ankle up, rubbing against the spot where the leather strap had rubbed the skin raw. Even though she didn't need the rent money anymore, Angie had her pride. She knew she needed to work, because Peggy might not always be around to look out for her. Having seen Peggy's bruised skin and bloodied knuckles, the reality of her roommate's occupational hazards were clear. Angie never asked for details, but she knew that whatever English was up to, it require cracking a few skulls. Hopefully she'd managed to keep her pretty British head intact.

The bus pulled to its stop a few blocks from the penthouse and Angie got out of her seat. She said goodnight to the bus driver and hopped off the steps onto the street. It was almost eleven o'clock at night - the street lamps casting small pools of yellow haze down the street. Sometimes, in the dark, Angie felt fear lingering at the fringes of her thoughts. She was a tough girl, from Brooklyn, she knew to keep smart and safe. Still, strong as she could be, she was no match for someone twice her size. 

She walked briskly down the street, paying attention to the sights and sounds around her. The neighborhood where she and Peggy lived was relatively quiet, most likely because it was very wealthy. Coming up close to their building, she noticed the doorman wasn't at his post like usual. She heard the sounds of scuffling down a side street and the pin pricks of worry needled her arms. 

Cautiously, Angie stepped around the corner, glancing down the alleyway. Four men, two with knives, one with a pipe and another with a gun, had cornered someone. 

"Yous gots Salvador locked up- you shoulda known yous was gonna meet us doll-face." The man with the gun threatened.

"Gentlemen, I am warning you for the last time, stand down." Said a British voice, sharp but calm.

English had gotten herself into some trouble. Angie looked around her, spotting an empty crate of milk bottles left for pick up at the front of the alley. She slid over to the box, leaned down and picked a glass up, hefting the weight in her right hand. She aimed for the guy with the gun and hurled the bottle as hard as she could. 

It connect along the backside of his head with a resounding shatter, pitching him forward. The gun went off, blasting towards the ground as he fell. Peggy flew into motion, stepping around the man and stomping his head with her heel. She whirled, dodging a reckless pipe swing, aiming a low punch to the attacker's gut. Ramming her elbow into his neck, he toppled to the ground with his friend. 

One of the other fellas turned towards Angie and snarled, "Little bitch." 

"Hey, that ain't how you talk to me!" Angie yelled back, sound fiercer then she felt. His knife was out and her world went into tunnel focus. Knives were scary and she was no trained fighter. Angie was gonna get cut up like a kebab. She grabbed another bottle and threw it at him, yelling and tossing glass as fast as her arms could move. He ducked under most of them, coming up on her fast. 

Taking her purse, holding it out in front of her, Angie shouted again. "Lousy bastard - your motha would be ashamed!" She kicked the crate of bottles in front of her as hard as she could, the box toppling in his path, sending glass everywhere. He stumbled, taking a knee to the ground to avoid face planting in shattered glass. As he got back on his feet, a pipe collided across the back of his skull with a sickening _crunch_. Peggy stood there, a small gash running down her arm and the pipe in hand. She looked angry, eyes narrowed and dark as she stared at the man's limp body. 

"English... you alright?" Angie took a step closer, lowering her pocket book. Her arms were shaking and she had forgotten about her foot pain. 

Peggy looked up, her taut features relaxing when she saw Angie was unharmed. "You are the most brazen American fool I have ever met, save perhaps Captain America himself."

"I couldn't let 'em hurt ya Pegs, you woulda saved my bacon if it was me."

Surveying the four unconscious men at their feet, Peggy chuckled. "Fair. You did a good job. Very resourceful and you have incredible aim. I need to call the boys to clean this mess up, we will talk more in the house. You should probably go sit for a while."

Angie nodded, eager to take off her heels and down a bottle of Schnapps as quickly as she could manage.

*****

Peggy walked through the door almost three hours later. Angie had showered, downed several gulps of Peach Schnapps, put on the radio and poured a bourbon for her friend. She had drifted in and out of sleep on the couch, but perked up immediately when she heard clacking of heels in the entryway.

Peggy appeared, tired and disheveled. Her arm was bandaged, the sterile white gauze contrasting her dark, dirty pantsuit. She smiled when she walked into the living room and saw Angie with a bourbon ready. 

"Well, that was an eventful evening. I am so tired of being targeted by silly street gangs for arresting their leaders. Sal was smuggling weapons to Russia for Christ's sake. That's beyond petty mob operations." She plopped down on the couch, her normal poise gone at such a late hour. 

Angie looked at her cautiously, afraid of violating their unspoken agreement by inquiring further. "I wonder how they found ya... your team arrested Sal, why'd ya think they picked _you_?"

"I have no idea how they traced it to us, but I suppose they have their sources too. As for picking me, it is mostly likely because I am a woman. I suspect they thought I would cower and plead until they could bargain for their leader's release. Little did they know, I have a body guard with a mean fast pitch."

A blush crossed Angie's cheeks. "Aww, stop. Cousin Ralphie taught me, usedta make me dress like a boy and play in his pick-up games." 

Peggy put her wounded arm around Angie and looked at her with sincere eyes. "Thank you. Truly. You are as brave as you are stubborn."

Angie's face was definitely beet red now. "English, I'd give my right arm to keep ya safe. You're somethin' special. Honest."

Silence settled over the two women, the ticking of the grandfather clock the only indication of time passing. Peggy leaned forward and took a sip of bourbon, sighing with relief. She started, "Angie, for the first time, in a long time, I was legitimately scared tonight."

"'Cause of the gun?"

"No, if I had money for every time I had a gun pointed at me, I would be wealthier than Howard." Peggy's brown eyes cast a sidelong glance at the blonde. "I was genuinely afraid you were going to get hurt. I was so preoccupied with fighting those goons, I failed to notice the man who rushed you until it was almost too late. I," She paused and gulped. "I have lost many people in less than a decade. People around me are thrown in harm's way. I do not blame you if you wish to move. You will be much safer and I know Howard will get you anything you need for helping me. Again."

Angie felt a wave of indignant fury surge in her chest. "You have got to be straight shittin' me English. Listen, I ain't as smart as you, but I know being around you has some... risks. But I don't care. You're worth it."

"Angie, please, at least consider it. My last roommate died with a bullet hole in her head. I do not want that to happen to you."

"Peggy, I'm not leavin'. I like it here. I like you here. I'm staying."

"I do not understand why- are you positively mad Angela Martinelli? Suicidal?" Peggy's face flushed with agitation, rising to match the growing tide of Angie's frustration.

"What, ya just gonna tell me what to do? 'Cause you have that right English?"

"No, it is just that I-" 

"I'm staying _dammit_. If you _want_ me to leave, you're gonna hafta make me." Angie's face was so close to Peggy's at this point, she could smell the bourbon on her breath. That was when Angie decided to do a second brave thing that night.

She leaned in and kissed Agent Peggy Carter full on the mouth. The British woman's eyes widened in surprise, but her hands moved to grab Angie's waist. It was a messy kiss, filled with fumbling hands and heavy breathing, not fireworks or love songs. But when Angie pulled away, she wanted nothing more than to kiss Peggy again and again and again until her lips damn near fell off. 

"Um," Peggy was uncharacteristically hesitant, "what on earth is going on here?" 

Angie laughed, "Not a friggin' clue, I think we need to conduct further investigations." Wrapping her arms around Peggy's neck, she dragged the woman down into another kiss. This time Peggy seemed more sure of herself, cupping Angie's face with her hands and relaxing into the embrace. When they finally parted, Angie couldn't help but grin.

"Still mad I'm staying?"

Peggy smiled with surprising shyness, "Maybe, but you are being very persuasive at the moment."

Angie leaned in again, "You ain't seen nothin' yet toots."


End file.
